


In Due Time

by loveandallthat



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, endgame jack/parse or bust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandallthat/pseuds/loveandallthat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's been in the NHL for several years now.  The Falconers rose to glory and fell again, just like the Aces.  Jack gets on a plane to Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Due Time

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. If you see any mistakes let me know. I appreciate all comments, including criticism.

Jack Zimmermann sits in the locker room after a particularly tough loss with the Falconers.  Winning had been their last chance to make it to the playoffs, but they just weren’t where they needed to be.

After Jack had signed with Providence, Kent Parson led the Aces to two consecutive Stanley Cup victories.  But the Falconers hadn’t been wasting time, and the year after that, they took home the trophy.  Following the glory years, however, both teams spent three years without making it past the first round of the playoffs, and this year, neither had even made it in.

Jack stares at his phone anyway, checking the standings, alternatively staring at Providence and Las Vegas.  If he had previously imagined he’d feel better losing if Kent was stuck there with him, he would have been dead wrong.  This felt like shit.

Yesterday, Kent and his team had lost an away game, and gone back home defeated.  Today, Jack’s team loses at home.  As soon as he can leave, he sits at home, thinking about everything he’d done wrong.  The way he’s feeling, it would be easy to crawl into bed and stay there, knowing he has no responsibilities anymore.

Instead, he gets on a plane.

Jack has a lot of friends who are much closer to Providence, whom he can see without taking a flight, without waltzing into an airport without even a ticket and crossing his fingers that he can get on a flight even though he’s on standby.  He shifts his weight awkwardly, hand on the bag over his shoulder.  Honestly, he has no clue what he even packed, but hopefully it was at least most of what he needs.

It’s crazy expensive, but he does actually get the second to last seat on a flight, which makes him feel like maybe this actually is the right thing to be doing.  Jack’s never been one to believe in fate, but now seems like a time where some intervention would be nice.

Of course, he also gets photographed at the airport, as he’s getting on the flight.  Meaning there’s no doubt about where he’s headed, and they have hours to spread the news, while Jack is trapped.

He lands in Las Vegas at six in the morning, having gotten only a few hours of sleep on the plane.  There are people milling around when he gets off the plane, and he tries to hide his face as well as he can, walking past baggage claim and out to arrivals.

Right as he’s about to get in line for a taxi, something catches his eye.  A patently ridiculous car, in fact, with a man leaning against it, hiding his face with the brim of his hat.

There’s no way.

“Hey, Zimms,” the man says quietly.

There’s  _ no  _ way.  But there is, because the man looks up and meets his gaze, and his eyes are unmistakable.

“Kent,” Jack breathes, only just stopping himself from going for a more familiar nickname.  Anybody could be listening in.  “What they hell are you doing here?”

“Not the welcome I wanted, but about what I expected,” Kent mutters, seemingly to himself.  “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Stalking me?” Jack half-jokes, before realizing how easy it would be for that to be taken the wrong way, given their history.

“Ha-ha,” Kent answers sarcastically, and Jack lets out a breath.

Kent is holding out his phone, which Jack eventually takes.  It’s open to a tweet from a fan who’d taken a picture of him getting onto the flight to Vegas, so Jack had been right that he was noticed.

“Internet stalking me, then,” Jack clarifies.

Kent rolls his eyes.  “Someone sent it to me.”

“I can’t believe you went to the airport just because of this.”

“I can’t believe you came to Vegas!  Besides, that photo is pretty incriminating.”

“Maybe I came to visit someone else,” Jack hedges.  Kent stares him down.  “I don’t know why I’m here.  I just . . . got on a plane.”

“Yeah, obviously.”  Kent sighs.  “Just get in the car.”  He picks up Jacks bag and shoves it unceremoniously into the trunk.  Jack feels an urge to protest, but there’s nothing important in it anyway.  Old habits die hard.  Before Jack reaches the passenger door, however, he finds himself with his arms full of Kent Parson, and just as Jack’s reaching up awkwardly to return the hug, Kent is pushing away and walking around to the driver’s side of the car.

“Nice place,” Jack says, when they stop in front of an apartment complex after a long, silent drive.

Kent looks down over his ridiculous, designer sunglasses, to more effectively level Jack with his stare.  “Sure,” he answers, getting out of the car and going to the back for Jack’s bag without saying anything else.

It  _ is  _ a nice place, though, Jack thinks as he walks in, trailing behind Kent.  His attempt to take back and carry his own bag is merely scoffed at. 

The apartment is nicer on the inside, huge and open.  Jack’s apartment isn’t nearly as big, although he likes it just fine.  It strikes him, being there, that it’s still clearly a bachelor pad, much like Jack’s own.  They might be right on the edge of being too old for that lifestyle, but there are some pretty compelling reasons why they haven’t had social lives, at least for Jack.

****

“Do you want something to eat?” Kent asks, but continues before Jack can even begin to answer.  “Or you could take a nap, or something.  I promise to leave you alone.”

****

Jack  _ is  _ tired, but there’s also a buzzing beneath his skin telling him there’s no way he could fall asleep.  “Food would be good.”

****

Kent starts making eggs without asking Jack what he wants.

****

“I see your cooking skills haven’t changed a bit,” Jack teases.

****

“Not very much,” Kent admits, “But I figured it would be a bad idea for us to go out somewhere together, since we we already noticed.

****

“We?” Jack asks.  “Did someone see you too?”

****

Kent hands over his phone again, opened to a new article with a picture of the two of them standing by the passenger side of Kent’s car at the airport.  If Jack remembers correctly, it’s from a few seconds before Kent had surprised him with a hug.  He hands the phone back.

****

“You didn’t have to come get me,” Jack says, looking at his hands.

****

“You didn’t have to come here,” Kent replies easily, like he was waiting for the moment.  He serves the food.  “Get whatever you want to drink from the fridge.”

****

Jack goes to get water.  He looks through the cabinets until he finds a glass, and Kent watches him instead of telling him where they are.

****

Eventually, Jack finishes his food, then abruptly remembers his manners.  “Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling torn between politeness and the old, lingering familiarity of being around Kent; they never used to thank each other for anything.  It felt weird, like thanking themselves.

****

Kent just looks up and down his face for a few seconds and nods, grabbing the dishes and putting them into the dishwasher.  He walks to his couch and drops heavily onto it, turning the TV on.

  
“Anything but hockey,” Jack demands, without thinking, as he sits on the other side.  Kent just laughs, and gives up on looking for something good to watch, ending up on an old movie.

****

“So,” Kent starts, and then stops.  He seems relaxed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and resting his feet on the coffee table, but Jack sees lines of tension in his forehead.

****

“So,” Jack agrees.  “How are you?”  He wants nothing more than to sink into the couch, but he opts for continuing to look down at his own knees instead of risking eye contact.

****

“Oh, I’m great,” Kent answers, putting his hands behind his head and stretching.  Admittedly, that may have been a dumb question considering the Aces’ recent loss.

****

“Me too,” Jack puts in, trying for the same deadpan voice.

****

Kent’s gaze rakes over Jack’s face, and he holds still even though he feels suddenly warm.

****

“I’m sorry.”

****

“For what?  The loss?” Jack asks.

****

“Ha, just like you to think only about hockey.  No, for all the dumb shit.  The past . . . however many years of me bothering you.  Being shitty back in the juniors.  Always saying the wrong things.”

“Stop,” Jack orders, harsher than he intends.  “I should be apologizing for putting you through hell, ignoring you, pushing you away when you wanted to help.”

****

“Fuck it.  We’re different people now.  It’s been way too long to worry about that.  You’re here now, which . . . why are you here now?”

****

That’s the question that Jack had hoped that he wouldn’t have to answer.  But now that it’s back, he gives it some more thought, sitting up on the couch and settling back in, a little closer to the middle.

****

“You’re right.  We are different people, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends like we were.”

****

“Maybe.”

****

Jack can feel himself smiling, and he tries to reign it in.  “We were young and dumb then.”

****

Kent kicks him lightly in the thigh.  “And now?”

****

“Now we’re old and dumb.”  They both laugh, even though it was a lame joke.

****

Jack thinks back to all the times he saw Kent after the draft, and he can’t stop himself from saying, “I miss you.”

****

Right on cue, Kent fires back, “You never say that.”  Which is kind of true.

****

“I’m saying it now, because it’s the truth.”

****

Kent sighs audibly.  His feet are still touching Jack’s leg.  “It was the truth every time I said it to you.”

****

Jack swallows past the lump in his throat.  “I know.”

****

The few points of contact between them are unexpectedly warm; it’s unnerving.  Kent fidgets, but doesn’t break the connection, and he bites his lip, then releases it.  “Where does that leave us?” he asks, not looking directly at Jack until he finishes asking the question.  Even with that, he’s still braver than Jack has ever been, until today.

****

He can’t resist, though.  Jack replies, “Right here.”

****

And yes, he definitely deserves the glare that Kent shoots him, but Jack’s also paying enough attention to see the corners of his lips twitching.

****

Jack hesitates.  “Here . . . trying again?”

****

Kent sits up suddenly, crosssing one leg and dropping the other off the side of the couch, sitting sideways to orient his entire body toward Jack’s.  “Are you serious?”

****

Keeping his feet on the floor, Jack turns to lay his arm across the back of the couch, opening himself up, too, face-to-face.  “If you’re up for it.”  He doesn’t say “still” but maybe he doesn’t need to.

****

“Fuck,” Kent breathes, “Obviously, yes.”

****

Jack realizes all at once how nervous he had been, because the relief he fels at those words is frankly astonishing.  “Wait, you  _ do _ mean . . .”

****

“Didn’t you?” Kent accuses, slowly leaning back.

****

“Of course, yeah.”

****

Every word they’ve exchanged hangs in the air.  Jack hadn’t even noticed that Kent had muted the TV, but the display was still on, even if the sound wasn’t.  He's only seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye, though, having not removed his gaze from Kent’s face for several silent, charged moments.

****

Kent leans in first; he's always been the brave one.  Jack gladly lets it happen, maybe surges into it strongly enough to catch Kent off guard, if the noise he makes is any indication.  He doesn't realize he's pushing Kent back on the couch until he's on top of him, and he tries to reign himself in.  Kent is grinning widely.

****  
“Eager?” He asks, somehow without ruining the effect of his smirk.  Jack covers it with his own hand, which is promptly licked, of course.  He pulls away in token protest, but he doesn’t actually mind at all, and he replaces his hand with his mouth, getting them back on track.  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working through a ton of ideas for Jack/Kent, so if you like the pairing and my writing, you can probably find more soon, although I'm taking a brief break because I'm temporarily haunted by a Dex/Nursey idea.
> 
> Find me on tumblr as [loveandallthat](http://loveandallthat.tumblr.com/)! I take prompts for tons of fandoms and pairings.


End file.
